


Pink Eyes

by Masked_Man_2



Category: The Oracle Trilogy - Catherine Fisher
Genre: Eyes, Implied Relationships, M/M, Male Slash, Musing, No Sex, Pre-Canon, Unrequited Love, implied madness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:06:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2370461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masked_Man_2/pseuds/Masked_Man_2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one noticed him as he swept; no one even looked up as he passed. Only Seth watched him, his own work abandoned and forgotten as he scrutinized the cleaner, unwittingly committing his features to memory....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pink Eyes

The scratches of a thousand styli etched myriad patterns into the expanse of Seth’s subconscious as he wrote, his deft hands meticulously copying out the Port’s latest inventory reports. It was mindless work, routine to him after so many months. Sixteen years old, he was well on his way to becoming third assistant archivist...and why should he not? Who else possessed such curiosity, such skill, such ambition? 

No one, that’s who, he thought, smiling to himself, that cocky smile that grated so on the nerves of the older scribes. Yes, the position would soon be his...but he wouldn’t stop there, no. Seth was hungry, hungry for power, wealth, respect...more. But bide your time, his mind cautioned him. Do your work, learn all you can, and you’ll have the world at your fingertips….

Good advice, he knew. With a quiet sigh, he turned back to the reports...but did the endless lists of numbers really require such absorption? Some niggling thought, buried deep within his mind where he could not discern its composition, begged for his attention, like an itch that needed to be scratched. Whatever this thought was, it surely was more pressing than his inventories...so, confident in a satisfactory outcome, he allowed his focus to wander, his intelligent dark eyes roving perfunctorily over the rows of desks and silent, bent-backed men, engrossed in their own work. 

He sought out the elusive shadow almost unconsciously, feeling an inexplicable twinge of satisfaction when his gaze settled on the skeletal figure across the chamber. Kreon moved like a cat, soundless, fecklessly guiding his broom between the desks. His pale form seemed almost to glow amidst the drab darkness of the scribal hall, and he looked to Seth to be nearly ethereal, the ghost of the bright God on earth.

No one noticed him as he swept; no one even looked up as he passed. Only Seth watched him, his own work abandoned and forgotten as he scrutinized the cleaner, unwittingly committing his features to memory. An albino, with skin like bleached bone and hair the color of milk, hanging wavy and unkempt to his chest. Frightfully tall, gangly, unhealthily thin. Sharp, wry features that were not at all unattractive. 

“You look lost.” The closeness of the harsh, dry, musical voice made Seth jump, and he stared at Kreon in shock. The older man stood awkwardly, leaning on his broom and keeping his meager weight off his right leg. He looked as though he had been standing before Seth’s desk for hours.   
“Where did you come from?” Seth demanded, painfully aware of his racing heart.  
Kreon shrugged, a graceless movement. “That’s a very good question,” he murmured. “One that has many, many answers.” Suddenly, he looked up, letting a lopsided leer of a grin cross his face. “Not the best thing to ask a man who has to be everywhere at once.”

 

X X X 

 

The strangeness of the comment brought Seth abruptly back to himself. What was he doing? He was not some lovesick fool; he was Seth! Why, then, was he staring at this man- this madman- like a hormonal adolescent? For Kreon was mad; everyone who worked in the City knew that. For the God’s sake, the man spoke to himself, spouted nonsense half the time, and snuck around the halls like a phantom. There was just something...off about him, something enigmatic and almost sinister in his sidelong glances and silent tread. 

Seth had never regarded him with anything but unease and a vague mixture of dislike and pity. Dislike was for his omnipresence, his insidious voice, his sidling movement. Pity was an afterthought, a hint of guilt over his intolerance of the man who attracted glances of fear and loathing wherever he went. The residents of the City whispered about him, not caring if he heard. Seth had seen some of the bolder scribes try to make Kreon’s life miserable: sending him on useless errands, deliberately making messes for him to clean. Taunting him. Insulting him. Beating him up in dark corners and threatening him into silence. 

It was appalling, truth be told. Then again...Seth had never really cared; he hadn’t even minded. After all, it was just Kreon. Just one crazy slave amidst a veritable hive of thousands. 

That mindset had served him well in his months as a scribe...until recently. Yes, it really had not been such a long time since he had begun to feel his indifference fade. The change had been gradual; he had thought nothing of it at first. He had simply felt a...stirring...inside himself. A flutter of the heart upon glimpsing the albino’s ghostly facade. A prick of something not unlike anger when he saw the man mocked. A shred of longing to see the other, to hear his harsh voice, to sense the odd coolness of him as he passed. A hint of desire...to feel him. 

By the God, how had these feelings grown so, unnoticed? When had they become so strong? How had he let them get so strong? Was it mere lust that plagued him?... Or was it love? Neither? Both? What was wrong with him?

 

X X X

 

“I didn’t think I was that profound.” Once more, Kreon’s voice jolted Seth out of his reverie, and he couldn’t help but stare at the man uncomprehendingly. Kreon smiled his crooked smile. “You’ve been sitting there, still as stone, for about ten minutes. Obviously I said something that made you think. Deeply. Obsessively.”  
“How do you know I was thinking about you?” Seth asked, trying to ignore the slight shaking in his voice.   
Kreon closed his eyes briefly, his thin lips parting to reveal sharp white teeth. “I never said you were.” His eyes flickered open again, and they gazed, hard and long, into Seth’s. “Getting ahead of yourself, maybe? You aren’t as difficult to read as you think you are.”

Looking into Kreon’s eyes, Seth felt immediately disoriented, unable to form even the smallest reply to the (frankly ludicrous) statement. It was as though he was staring into a deep pool of shadow. The albino’s eyes were haunting: colorless, the irises tinged with pink, the pupils oddly red and pale. The looked like a dead man’s eyes, yet they gleamed with mischief and intelligence, sparked with a feverish, almost mad intensity that set Seth’s poor heart to pounding. There was power in those eyes, ancient power, pain, and sorrow. Darkness, despite the lack of color. Infinite clarity, despite their weakness. 

Kreon took a step towards Seth, tilting his head slightly, as if to see him better. “Your eyes are so dark,” he whispered hoarsely, with something akin to wonder in his voice. “They absorb all light...as does a shadow. Yet...they...glow, don’t they? They let the light they take in back out...yes. they glow like the sun….” He advanced another step, letting one skeletal white hand drift from the handle of his broom to the empty space between them, tracing invisible patterns in the air with his spidery fingers. “Are you the sun, Seth? Or are you a shadow? Do you give freely the light inside you, or do you covet that of others, knowing it can never be truly yours?”  
“What do you mean?” Try as he might, Seth couldn’t respond with any semblance of his usual acerbic wit. His voice was reduced to a faint whisper as he watched Kreon’s fingers, spellbound.

 

X X X 

 

With a sudden harsh laugh, the albino stepped back, dissolving whatever charm he had woven to mist. “I mean,” he retorted, and his voice was cutting, cruel, “are you a bright spirit, a God among men? Or are you a monster?” And he laughed again, a chilling, mad cackle. “A monster like me?”  
Seth leaned back in his chair slightly, feeling a shard of icy fear freeze in his veins, fear of this man of such power...such unpredictable madness. “You…” he gasped. “What are you talking about?”  
“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” Kreon bent down with astonishing speed, until his face was inches away from Seth’s. “Kreon the ghost? Isn’t that what they say? Ghost, skeleton, shadow? Monsters, yes? Is that not what I am?!”  
Seth leaned back further, biting his lip nervously. “You are not-”  
“SHUT UP!” Kreon’s voice cracked with the force of his shout, and Seth flinched. Around the scribal hall, a thousand faces glanced up in surprise, seeking the source of the disturbance. Feeling the curious eyes on him, Kreon lowered his voice to a biting whisper. “You know. You have eyes, ears. A mouth. A brain. You see. Hear. Speak. Think. And now, think. How can you claim you do not see? How, when you have heard them call me monster and have said the same yourself?!”

Seth froze, stunned by the man’s enraged words; he couldn’t keep the expression of shock off of his face. What had brought on that tirade? What had he said? He had done nothing to provoke Kreon so, nothing at all to warrant a rant about being a monster….

Still...the more he deliberated the occurrence, the more he realized how much of what Kreon had said was actually true. After all, how many times had he heard such derogatory epithets fall from the lips of the scribes; how many times had he seen the eyes of the slaves widen with fear and contempt at the sight of the albino?... How many times had he, Seth, stared at the man, repulsed and uneasy, with the word crazy at the forefront of his mind?

Well? the derisive voice of his conscience whispered. How many, indeed? Seth took a deep, shuddering breath, and his blasted conscience seemed to chuckle darkly. Too many, it hummed. You’ve done it now, you fool. 

 

X X X 

 

Kreon watched Seth’s internal struggle impassively, his pale eyes distant and hard. “Perhaps I’ve said too much,” he said coldly, turning awkwardly away. “Ponder that a while, maybe. Remind yourself how true it is.” That said, he began to shuffle back down the aisle of desks, his spindly hands clenched tightly around the handle of his broom. 

A whiff of cool air seemed to brush by Seth as Kreon moved away, air touched by the sweet breath of natron and poppy, the dusty scent of stone, and an alluring hint of deadly nightshade. As the scent faded with the other’s distance, Seth felt a strange, clutching pang in his chest, and he involuntarily grabbed at Kreon’s patched sleeve. “Wait,” he cried. When the albino froze, he said it again. “Wait.” And suddenly, he knew there was no point in hiding his mad feelings any longer...reciprocity be damned. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well, there you have it! Honestly, I don’t know why I ship Seth/Kreon, but it works, it really does. So...this was a cliffhanger, I hope. It was supposed to be a one-shot, but I might expand it if people want me to. What do you all think?
> 
> For reference, Seth is about 16 (he’s been working as a scribe for about 8 months), and Kreon is roughly 25. The story takes place about a year before the start of the Oracle Prophecies. 
> 
> Please, PLEASE review! Tell me what you thought: disliked, liked, hated, loved, were confused by, etc. Also, if you want this continued, say so! Please?


End file.
